


if you wanted a song

by itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN (alex_marie1324)



Series: letting go 'verse [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst with no happy ending, Cheating, Cigarettes, Extended Metaphors, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Past Cheating, Smoking, attempting to communicate, doesnt go well, fancy shit, michael centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_marie1324/pseuds/itsfromjapaAAAAAAAN
Summary: and i hope this makes you happy now,that the flame we had is burning out.and i hope you like your pictures facing down,as even broken hearts may have their doubts.





	if you wanted a song

**Author's Note:**

> oOF okay so i had appendicitis and stuff and am currently healing from the surgery. i wrote this awhile ago on [my amino](http://aminoapps.com/p/0qh85h). i'll get back to work on my multichapter stuff once im feeling better <3

_i’m throwing away pictures,_  
_that i never should have taken in the first place._

Michael holds his lighter- his lucky lighter with the dented side and chipped paint- to the picture. It’s him and Jeremy, arms around each other and smiling so wide. Their happiness radiates from the picture, making it feel warm. Or maybe that’s just the fire that it’s now being eaten up by. It almost brings a smile to his face to watch the happy memories dissolve in his fingertips. He drops it into the trash can- which he preemptively put a bit of water into just for this occasion.

The next picture he picks up is them right after getting engaged. Boy is he glad they never found the time to schedule the wedding. He uses the blaze from the now burning picture to light a cigarette.

 _and it's cold in my apartment_  
_As I'm changing all the colors_  
_From the brightest reds to grays_

He turned off the light in his apartment the moment he stepped in. It was too bright for him right now. Everything just seemed too happy.

 _it's 3 o'clock on monday morning,_  
_i just hoping you're not seeing his face._

Michael doesn’t really sleep. He lays in bed, thinking over every detail of their relationship. From the butterfly kisses to the laughter, to the way his own voice sounded as he screamed and cried and the shattering of the glass cup that flew from his hand.

He can only hope Jeremy wasn’t with Jake now. Just the thought alone stabs him in the stomach.

 _i've been getting calls in these hotel rooms,_  
_long enough to know that it was him,_  
_that took my place._

But at the same time Michael isn’t stupid. He knows. He knows Jeremy goes home with Jake now, and he can do it without Michael weighing him down with texts asking where he was.

 _and i hope this makes you happy now,_  
_that the flame we had is burning out._

Michael can’t even say that part of him is bitter; all of him is bitter. Like he’s swallowed four bottles of that fancy Italian soda- Campari- from the hotel mini-bar when they visited Disney together. He’s full of red hot bitterness. So for all it’s worth, he hopes that this makes Jeremy happy.

He hopes that the destruction of their relationship is what Jeremy wanted. Why else would he have cheated in the first place?

 _and i hope you like your pictures facing down,_  
_as even broken hearts may have their doubts._

The pictures that aren’t burned immediately are framed still. But Michael walks through his entire apartment and laid each one face down.

He wants to believe that maybe Jeremy would come back and have some justification that would sweep Michael off his feet. But he knows better. He just isn’t ready to burn the pictures so sacred to be entrapped in the polished wood.

 _and i’m burning all the letters,_  
_hoping that i might forget her and the bad taste,_  
_that she left when she was leaving me,_  
_a life of barely breathing as she walked,_  
_out of this place._

It takes Jeremy a lot longer to rid himself of the remnants of Michael from his apartment. He isn’t ready to evict the memories from his heart.

But eventually he manages to hit the delete button on Michael’s number, take all the pictures down, and cut the strings that were still somehow pulling him to Michael.

But he can never get rid of the vivid picture burned into his mind of Michael’s crying face turning away to leave. He can never take the snapshot- framed in black- off the fireplace shelf of his memories.

 _you dropped the note and we changed key,_  
_you changed yourself and i changed me._

It’s not missed by Michael how much he changes after their breakup. It’s not missed that it’s probably a bad change. He’s become a harder person at his core, as if the cigarette smoke made his heart solid rock instead of charred flesh.

_i really didn't see us singing through this._

Jeremy wants to reach out, but he’s sure it won’t help. It won’t make anything better. There’s no talking this out. The glass is broken.

 _then you screamed the bridge,_  
_and i cried the verse._

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” Michael asks, his voice hoarse from sobbing. Jeremy’s eyes just fall down onto his shoes. He’s silent. “You can’t just- just- drop that and then not say anything!” Michael’s screaming now, his voice echoing through the thin apartment walls. The only thing holding them in.

 _and our chorus came out unrehearsed,_  
_and you smiled the whole way through it._  
_i guess maybe that's what's worse._

Michael throws the cup. It’s an innocent victim of circumstance, sitting atop the counter when his anger comes to a peak. He relishes the way the glass feels cold against his hand before it leaves his fingers and hits Jeremy’s wall. He wishes, for a moment, that it had hit Jeremy. But he knows that he’d regret that more.

And then it all drains, the anger shatters into infinite pieces of sparkling glass. Sparkling tears sliding down Michael’s cheeks and pooling on his chin before falling to the floor. He turns on his heel and walks calmly to the door.

 _and i hope this makes you happy now,_  
_that the flame we had is burning out._

Michael starts going to bars, the kind where you could smoke inside because no one really cares enough to enforce the law. Sleazy. The perfect crowd to disappear and melt into the background.

 _and i hope you like your pictures facing down,_  
_as even broken hearts may have their doubts._

Jeremy maintains his life. As best as he can, really. He gets up, he goes to work, he comes home, he goes to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

But every morning he wakes up cold. He remembers the warmth of Michael’s body next to his, comfortable. He remembers the scorching heat of Jake’s body on top of him. Nothing that could keep him warm anymore.

 _and i’m taking all your memories off the shelf,_  
_and i don't need you or anybody else._

Michael finally does a full sweep of his apartment, opening the picture frames and yanking out the memories. He rips them to shreds, letting each piece and part float down to his feet where he sweeps them up later and throws them away.

He’s content alone. He doesn’t need someone else in his bed to make him feel happy. He doesn’t need the way Jeremy would kiss him every morning and every night and anytime in between where Jeremy could steal a kiss. He doesn’t. Jake can have it all for all he cares.

 _so take a look at me,_  
_see what you want to see,_  
_when you get home._

Michael never expects to see Jeremy again. He doesn’t want to see Jeremy again. He especially doesn’t expect to see Jeremy by one of the bars he’s been going to. Someone had asked him to smoke outside, and Michael was never the type to argue about that sort of thing, so he did. He regrets it now, looking at Jeremy and having Jeremy look at him. He wonders what Jeremy sees.

 _take me home,_  
_i’d rather die than be with you._

“M-Michael?” Jeremy’s voice sounds so small. Fragile. Michael gets the distinct feeling that he could shatter him just like the cup.

 _take me home_  
_you have a problem with the truth_

He doesn’t, not physically, but Jeremy’s reactions to his words do seem have their desired effect.

 _take me home,_  
_because this happens every time,_  
_i knew it would..._  
_i knew it would…_

“I... I am sorry,” Jeremy says, and Michael knows as much. Of course he’s sorry, he’s always sorry. Sorry doesn’t rebuild years of now broken trust.

 _take me home_  
_i’d rather die than be with you._  
_take me home,_  
_you have a problem with the truth._

“I’m sure you are,” Michael says honestly, but bitterly. The taste of that soda is back on his tongue.

 _take me home,_  
_because this happens every time._

Michael’s second cigarette of the night burns down a little after Jeremy walks away.

 _and i knew it would..._  
_i knew it would..._


End file.
